A well-known English politician was much annoyed by reporters. One day he was enjoying a chat at a London hotel, when a strange young man came up who seemed to have something of importance to communicate, and led him across the room. Arrived in a corner, the stranger whispered, “I am on the staff of an evening paper, and I should like you to tell me what you think of the Government’s foreign policy.” Mr. Dash looked a little puzzled; then he said, “Follow me.” Leading the way, he walked through the reading-room, down some steps into the drawing-room, through a long passage into the dining-room, and drawing his visitor into the corner behind the hat-rack, he whispered, “I really don’t know anything about it.” AN OVER-DOSE A well-known physician was examining a class of nurses. He described the condition of a patient, and asked one nurse how much morphine, in her opinion, should be administered to the sufferer. “Eight grains,” promptly replied the nurse. The doctor made no comment, and the girl passed on. When her turn came again she appeared greatly confused, and said to the examiner, “Doctor, I wish to correct the answer I made last time. I meant to say that one-eighth of a grain should be given to the patient.” “Too late,” remarked the physician, without looking up from his question paper. “The man’s dead.” NOBODY CONCERNED The wounded soldier was being attended by the doctor. The latter seemed to treat the case in a light-hearted manner. He prodded the soldier in the ribs, and grinned. “You’ll be all right,” he said. “You’ve got a bullet in your left arm; but that does not trouble me in the least.” “I don’t suppose it does,” said the soldier. “An’ if you’d got a bullet in both arms I don’t suppose it ’ud trouble me, either.” HARD LUCK He was a Canadian and he wore a corporal’s stripes. There he sat snugly in a sheltered part of his trench in that little corner of Belgium and played poker with a quartet of his comrades. Luck was against him. He had lost about everything he had to lose, when at the very height of the game—just after the dealer had done his best and worst—a shell came through the roof of the shelter, passed between the Canadian’s long, lean legs (luckily without hitting him), and buried itself harmlessly in the soft earth. The others of the party leaped up in not inexcusable haste and fled from the place, but the Canadian did not move. The disturbance brought the company commander on the run. “What’s up?” says he.